


Nouveau Riche

by hegemony



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/pseuds/hegemony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared wants to play, and Jensen can't deny himself something he knows they both want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nouveau Riche

**Author's Note:**

> PWP originally published July 08, 2007. Inspired by Jensen's photo shoot in Hollywood Life Magazine.
> 
> Significantly revised

Jensen surrenders when Jared pushes him flush against the tree. He doesn't think twice as he opens his mouth and lets Jared's tongue invade. A pang of self-hatred comes over Jensen, but Jared's hands sweep it aside, as they hold him close. Those hands own him, make him want more.

His head turns, his mouth parts further under Jared’s tongue. Finally, he leans back against the tree, hungry for air.

Jared smiles like a shark, shoving in oppressively close. He reaches out, tracing the swollen curl of Jensen's lip.

“Look at you, pretty little boy,” Jared whispers, as hazy as the heat in LA’s hills. "J.Crew called. Wanted their catalogue model back."

Jensen’s still in his khakis and that pink shirt Jared threw on him, and as Jensen leans against the tree, Jared’s head ducks down into the open peek of skin hanging bare in his shirt. Jensen can feel the moisture on Jared’s lips slide down that skin, tongue warm but refreshing as he moans deep in his throat and bites back the laugh tickling at his throat. Jared’s head sinks down further so he can undo the knot in Jensen’s tie with his teeth. He worries at the loose knot, pulling the silk free from Jensen’s neck with his mouth, leading it away to drop in his hands. “Got time to fuck the nouveau riche actor, huh? Or is it time to go back in and study for that law degree?”

Jensen teases. “Didn’t even know you knew what that new money shit meant.”

“Cute. Did they teach you sarcasm before or after they taught you how to smile with your eyes?” Jared smiles, kissing Jensen again, leading the tie around one of Jensen’s wrists, pulling it up and around the tree until Jensen’s standing tall and has to stretch before he pulls something.

Palm to the side of the tree, Jared puts Jensen’s other hand in a makeshift-cuff as well, cinching the knot tight above Jensen’s head. The sudden roughness makes Jensen jump, his whole body arching into Jared's. He struggles for a second, but Jensen’s palms are held too tight to rigid bark. There’s not very much leverage anywhere unless he wants one of his arms out its socket before the end of the day.

There’s more slide between lips, tongue to tongue and breath to breath. Jared's kisses are ultra-masculine: downright eager, heated and forceful, as if they needed the formality naming Jared in control. Jensen moves to follow even though he cannot. A hand undoes every button on Jensen’s pink shirt, the one he’ll have to return to wardrobe by the end of the day, if not soon, and oh god.

It hits him that they’re still on a set. The shoot may have broken for a few hours, thanks to the aggressive heat, but there’s enough people milling around that this could be very bad.

“Let me go,” Jensen whispers, still struggling, the tree bark texture scratching under his fingernails.

“That's not how this show works, pretty boy,” Jared says defiantly, dropping to his knees. He slides a teasing hand over Jensen’s fly, teasing the bulge and twirling his fingers around the button at the top of his khakis, underneath his belt. Jensen presses his lips tightly together when Jared slides the belt apart, undoes the button and gently presses the zipper down, breathing heavy as he gets peeled out of his pants and briefs.

Jared sounds downright sadistic, “So a little risk makes daddy’s little businessman horny? What are you afraid of, Jen, a little humiliation? We'll have to work on that, later.”

“Jared,” Jensen warns, but Jared ignores him to fit his mouth over the crown of Jensen’s cock. He goes from half-hard to rock-solid within seconds, trying not to buck into the damp vacuum of Jared’s mouth. There’s the scrape of bottom teeth just under the head, just enough to send sparks up Jensen’s spine. It's the stimulus he needs to renew his struggles against the bondage around his wrists.

“Jay,” Jensen hisses, frantic as Jared pulls away to carefully drag the pants from Jensen’s legs, fitting them over each shoe and freeing them into the grass. Jensen’s underwear follows until he’s just wearing his shirt and the unlaced tennis shoes they gave him.

“Don’t you know these pants have to be taken care of, Jensen? I mean, come on. They’re _Versace_.” Jared teases. "I could leave you here, and they still would accuse you of stealing 800 dollar pants. Wonders never cease, right?"

Jensen's brows furrow and there’s no turning back now. It’s probably painfully obvious that this is getting Jensen off, the turn and tide and indifference that Jared’s showing as he pulls the lube out of his pants and slowly applies some to his fingers.

“And besides, I’d hate for you to have come stains on them. You always have to look your best, wearing Daddy's money around like this.”

“Jared!” Jensen says, trying to pull down until the tie loosens. It holds fast and suddenly Jensen's tensing up in panic. He knows he should be looking away, pausing to see if anybody’s peeking in on this from behind that window or from around this corner, but he can’t take his eyes off Jared, and that pretty little smile Jared gives when he’s on his knees.

A single cold finger slip-slides around his entrance, breaching delicately. Jensen feels it, lets it in. He feels the heat from the LA sun rolling onto his body in thickened waves, feels the heat inside him build slowly as Jensen’s legs turn outward, making more space for Jared's body to fit.

“C’mon, fuck me,” Jensen says, and Jared looks up at him, more hot breath damp across the head of his cock.

Jensen’s ultra-awareness of everything has faded away to the finger inside him as it slithers out and comes back with another, fingers curving in to the second knuckle and bending until they can double back. It's a lovely stretch, pulling at Jensen from the inside and he can feel the tips slip out again, stretching and scissoring him wide in every direction. Jensen’s eyes go down to look at Jared’s lips stretching to take Jensen’s cock all the way in, as far as it can reach in the back of his throat.

It's sensory overload. He cries out, the terror of being caught a heady aphrodisiac. Jared purrs as he straightens his fingers inside Jensen, and pulls himself away from Jensen’s cock.

“Do something for me, baby,” Jared orders.

Jensen can feel the third finger circling around his entrance, and Jensen’s already begging and sobbing. Jensen wiggles against him and struggles to speak. “Ah…a-nything.”

“Look real pretty and scream for me,” Jared demands, as controlling as Jensen’s ever heard him, and suddenly, Jared’s managed all of Jensen’s cock in his mouth, his hand on Jensen’s hip holding him down as he rubs his nose into the patch of pubic hair in Jensen’s lap. In Jensen’s ass, the third finger stretches him open, spidering wide and prodding against his prostate.

Jensen moves, stands wider, grips his hands hard onto the tree he’s been tied to, and he comes, grunting loud but low. It seems like nature stops around him, everything going quiet as Jensen comes back to his senses, checking to see if anybody’s paying attention to this scene. Jared doesn’t relent, choking on Jensen’s cock, popping his fingers against Jensen’s prostate until Jensen’s bucking against Jared’s face and his hand, fucking himself one way and then the next until he’s whimpering, sagging against the tree. He’s pliant and tired and just where he knows Jared wants him.

“Jared,” Jensen warns, half-heartedly as Jared spreads his legs a little far and slips his mouth off Jensen’s cock. His fingers reluctantly slide out, and Jensen feels shockingly empty due to the loss. Jared rises off his knees and leans in to trap Jensen back against the tree with one hand while undoing his own fly with the other. He pulls out his cock, and lubes up, dick glistening in the midday sun, no matter how much this could all go wrong.

“I don’t care if anybody sees you like this," Jared growls, as predatory as Jensen has ever seen him. "You’re mine anyway, rich boy. Pout those lips and look trapped, if you want. If they’re back from lunch early, they’ll just have to deal with it."

“Fuck me,” Jensen begs, “Jared, fuck me.”

“I will,” Jared says, a smile splitting his face wide open. All of a sudden, the posh ‘label whore’ attitude of the whole photo shoot is gone, there’s no record of Jensen picking these clothes off the wardrobe rack, and there’s no worry they’ll get caught. Jared, in a stupid feat of strength, picks up Jensen by the knees and lifts him to rest on his hanging and weakened arms and his knees as they lock around Jared's shoulders.

Jensen’s hands scratch for purchase as Jared meets Jensen’s entrance with his head and pushes himself in relentlessly, compressing Jensen against the tree. It’s a solid sensation, not-quite a burn but a tingle as the lube stretches him open further. He’s sweating, and Jared bends to lick up some of the sweat dangling from his chin. He drags his lips against the line of Jensen's cheek before licking into Jensen's mouth as he pulls out slowly and fucks in hard enough to make it really hurt.

Jensen’s hands are wrapped so tight they can’t even make fists, and he scrambles as he’s laid out, squished between the tree and Jared Padalecki’s cock. Jensen knows he's getting fucked, hard. Every thrust has an upward snap at the end, every withdrawal slow and soft like it’s meant to lure Jensen into a false sense of security that the real storm is over.

Jensen’s hard again, and the head slides free between the layers of his pink dress shirt to lay against Jared’s soft t-shirt, jersey against starched linen. Jared’s slow and methodical, like he knows how to pace himself and how much time he really has. Jensen’s groaning, words completely abandoned for guttural moans, fits of squealing. A feeling of hysteria washes over him, familiar with the knowledge that Jared’s not going to back off unless they’ve both been fucked into oblivion.

It’s a mid-tempo, now, and even though Jensen’s pleading with every ounce for faster, for harder, for meaner, Jared seems okay with just being inconspicuous, for a man holding down another captive man to a tree and fucking him hard. Jared does it like it doesn’t matter if they get caught, like it’s just another blind item in a gossip blog. He fucks like he wants Jensen to know who’s in charge on days like these, like he wants Jensen to feel it even in just looking at the innocuous tie that started this whole escapade.

“Jared, oh god, Jared, fuck, harder, I can’t even…” Jensen starts, but Jared throws in a particularly violent thrust and the whole universe picks itself up back into motion. Jensen's hips start snapping in tandem, too, like there isn’t a care in the world beyond them. "Fuck!"

“Wish you could touch yourself, huh?” Jared says, and Jensen nods, “Wish you could touch me?”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, struggling to form words between the rhythm of the hips crashing into his, and the panting that’s filled the air around them in the shade of the tree he’s been tied to since this began. Proof of Jared’s all over him now; he’s sweating, he’s undone the casually knotted tie and perfect press on the pants, and he’s certainly not getting paid to scuff up his palms on the tree’s bark. There’s possession all over, like he’s never going to get to come again if it’s not by Jared’s hand and there’s no better word to describe it. Especially when his whole day has consisted of ogling for the camera and being ogled over.

“Just gonna have to take what you get, Jen. Not familiar to that, right?”

Jensen shakes his head, tries to withstand it for a little longer, and when he hears Jared jerking and coming inside him, he knows it’s over. There’s no more game, he’s going to spend the rest of the day in soiled clothes feeling like a whore.

“Daddy’s little pretty, preppy whore,” Jared's whisper is the cockiest thing Jensen's ever heard. Jensen’s legs drop, one by one. It’s sticky all across his torso, the proof of a good lunch-time fucking. He stands still and noble and tall when Jared lets him go.

Jared gives him a hand to fuck into, pushing tight into the fist until he’s coming for the second time, this time much more insane, hot and tight and wrong as he comes screaming and tired and raw, Jared’s come slipping down his thighs.

Jensen ends up pleading not to be left like this, struggling for seduction as much as fear. He even resorts to striking a bargain, painting a picture of being bound hand and foot to Jared’s bed if he’ll just let Jensen go and finish the shoot. Jared picks at the knot while still kissing Jensen, dirty promises and curled toes inside shoes, and a hand sliding into Jensen’s hair as Jensen’s fingers fall from their positions on the tree. Jensen’s wrists are rimmed with a splash of red from a bit too much struggle, but he looks at Jared dreamily as he slides his shirt cuffs to hide them, a secret between the law student and the actor.

The tie gets readjusted, and the shirt rebuttoned, and Jensen’s release from the tree means he can scramble into his pants again, ready to take the second roll of film with the photographer as Jared watches from afar behind the scenes. There’s a trickle of come leaking steady out of Jensen, and he’s pretty sure he can smell it on himself. It brings a feeling of serenity, of being marked, branded right across the backside. It’s obvious where that possession lay.

They tell Jensen to act tough in this set, all butch and hero-esque, but he feels languid and blissed-out, like he’s been dragged in the dirt and fucked so hard, Jared’s going to make him remember it for months. A quick breath, a bite to his bottom lip, and he wills the feeling away, the only thing to remind him is Jared’s cocky smile behind the photographer and the come slowly dripping out of his ass.

Jensen wonders if Jared should come to photo shoots with him more often.


End file.
